


“This is How I Die, Íþrótt”

by OtterlyDeerlightful



Series: Lifemates AU [15]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, cuddles and reassurance, domestic life, growing older, male pattern baldness, projecting like a mofo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14639304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyDeerlightful/pseuds/OtterlyDeerlightful
Summary: Sometimes reality comes crashing in, and Glanni isn't sure how he'll be able to survive this, the worst blow in his miserable life. Is there any way for Ithro to help?-Rated Teen for language only-





	“This is How I Die, Íþrótt”

“This is it,” came a moan from the upstairs hallway. “This is how I die, Íþrótt!”

The elven man looked up from where he was finishing his forty-seventh chin-up. “What is it this time?” he called back before resuming his routine.

He didn’t receive an answer, at least not a verbal one. Instead, there followed a few minutes of silence before Íþróttaálfurinn heard soft, slow, shambling footsteps descending the stairs to his basement gym. The hero looked up to see his mate wrapped head to toe in one of their comforters, the bedding looking more like a pink puffy cloak now than a duvet. Only Glanni’s face was visible under the fluffy blanket and he looked absolutely miserable. The fae shot him a passing scowl as he shuffled over to the large plush couch resting against the far wall of the room. He sat with a huff and stuck out his bottom lip, then looked over at Íþrótt dejectedly. The elf just sighed and released the bar he was still grasping to go sit with him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he wrapped an arm around the blanket pile that was Glanni. “What’s given you the pouty face?”

The fae glared at him.

“You’re cute when you pout.”

“I’m not _pouting_!” Glanni hissed in annoyance. “I’m dying.”

“Oh?”

Glanni pulled his blankets closer. “If you’re so unconcerned, maybe I shouldn’t bother telling you!” the man whined with a frown and a wrinkled nose.

This game again. Íþróttaálfurinn smiled in spite of himself as he snuggled up close to the man’s blanket-shielded side and rested his chin on Glanni’s equally soft shoulder. He looked up at his mate with big, sad eyes and enveloped the fae in a gently squeezing hug.

“But I _am_ concerned,” the elf whined, trying not to go _too_ overboard in his performance. “What’ll I do _without_ you if you die? No one can replace the Great Glanni Glæpur!”

Glanni glared at him another moment before he started to wiggle in his comforter, a half-hearted attempt to wriggle free of Íþrótt’s grasp.

“It’s not funny,” the felon grumbled, looking away.

Alright, game over. Or, suspended at least. Íþrótt sat up and pulled Glanni close.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, all playfulness gone from his voice now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Glanni asked accusingly.

The hero went from concerned to confused in an instant. “What? What didn’t I tell you?”

“That I’m going _bald_!” Glanni shouted angrily.

Íþróttaálfurinn blinked. “Huh?”

Glanni pulled the pink comforter off his head and pointed at his now-mussed hair. “ _Look_!”

Íþrótt stared. He blinked. He squinted. But, he still didn’t see what Glanni was talking about. The elf gave up with a shrug and prepared himself for the bombshell that was sure to follow.

“You…look the same to me,” he admitted quietly.

“The _same_?” came the immediate and expected shriek. “The _same_!” How can you say that?”

The hero slowly shrugged, unsure what might be the right thing to say at this point. Glanni looked the same as ever to him, and even if the fae _was_ going bald—which he still wasn’t entire sure of yet—Íþrótt didn’t really understand why that was as terrible a problem as Glanni seemed to think.

“Look at this!” his mate shouted, clearly displeased by the elf man’s reaction to his plight.

The fae brushed a hand through his hair, pulling back his covered hairline. Now that Íþrótt could see it up close, Glanni’s hair _did_ look a bit thinner there than it used to be. Even so, that was normal. Well, more normal for humans than for fae, but it was certainly not unheard of. That didn’t mean the man was going to go completely _bald_ , per say—

“And _this_!” Glanni cried, bowing his head and parting some of the hair near the back of his crown.

Ah, yes, the small patch of skin there was a little harder to write off. It seemed that the fae _was_ balding after all. Glanni pulled back and looked up at Íþrótt with watering eyes.

“I’m hideous,” Glanni whimpered with a shallow sniffle.

Íþróttaálfurinn sighed and pulled the man up against his side. He gave Glanni’ forehead a gentle kiss and let the former criminal rest their cheek on his chest.

“You’re not hideous.”

“You’re just saying that because you have to or I won’t fuck you in the ass later,” the fae mumbled sadly. “Not that I can understand _why_ you’d want that in the first place. Who wants to be cornholed by a gross bald man?”

Íþrótt let out a sigh. “You’re not _bald_ Glanni.”

“I will be. Same thing. Bald man walking.”

The elf tucked a finger under Glanni’s chin and gently forced the man to look up at him so that he could give his partner a soft kiss.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Íþrótt said quietly. “You’re not _bald_ and you’re not _hideous_ , Glanni. You’re—” He kissed his mate again, this time on the forehead. “—very—” a kiss on the nose “—handsome—” a kiss on their right cheek “—Gorgeous, even.”  kiss on his chin “—And I love you.” kiss on his soft lips “—And I will always love you. Even if all your hair falls out tomorrow.” kisses to clear the fae’s eyes of hesitant tears “You’ll still be the most gorgeous man on the planet.”

Glanni let out a reluctant sniffle and tried to covertly wipe his eyes with the blanket. Íþrótt just hugged him. As emotional and dramatic as Glanni was about darn near everything, Íþrótt had only seen the man openly cry a handful of times. While Íþróttaálfurinn would continue to love Glanni whether the man went bald or not, he realized that the prospect of losing his hait truly _was_ a traumatic idea for his mate to digest. The fae valued his appearance more highly than most other people Íþrótt had met in his life, but the elf knew that balding didn’t mean that is lovely felon would lose that beauty he had so carefully cultivated over a lifetime. He just needed Glanni to see that for himself. For now, the hero gently stroked his mate’s back and held him tightly.

“You’re not hideous and you never will be,” Íþrótt whispered to him. “I, for one, think you would be gorgeous even if you _were_ bald.”

Glanni grumbled to himself.

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, right.”

He gave Glanni a squeeze. “I am. You are dazzling, Glanni. You aren’t just your hair.”

“Save it.”

“You’re smart, and beautiful, and talented, and when you want to be, you’re the most charming, sweet man I’ve ever kno—”

“And I’ll be _bald_ , too, now!”

Íþrótt sighed. “It’s not the end of the world, Glanni.”

“Maybe not _yours_!” You still have all your hair!”

The hero kissed Glanni’s forehead, the fae frowning at him in defiance as he did. Clearly, reassurances alone weren’t going to work. He needed some sort of action to back them up.

“How about I prove it to you, then?”

“What?”

“That being bald isn’t so terrible.”

Glanni looked up at Íþrótt in suspicious disbelief. He said nothing, but his narrowed eyes and grimaced. Good, at least he had the fae’s attention.

“How about I shave my head?” he offered. “And I’ll prove to you it’s not nearly as bad as you think it is.”

Glanni almost looked frightened at the idea. He pulled away from the hero’s arms and stared at Íþróttaálfurinn with wide eyes that darted back and forth across his mate’s face. “Wh-what?” he asked in a slight shaky voice. “You’d…?”

“I would.” The hero smiled brightly, happy to have Glanni’s _full_ attention. “How about right now?”

“Now? Like, _now_ now?”

Íþrótt patted his thigh like a judge banging a gavel, decision made. “Now now,” he confirmed before abruptly standing up and holding out his hand. “Come on.”

The bundled up man was hesitant. Glanni stared at the elf’s hand for a few moments, blinking slowly. His eyes made their way up to his partner’s still-smiling face and pulled their comforter more tightly around his shoulders.

“Íþrótt, no. You shouldn’t—you _don’t_ have to do that. J-just because _I’m_ going bald doesn’t mean that _you_ —”

“What, do you think I’ll be ugly without my hair?” the hero interrupted with a smirk.

Glanni closed his mouth, lips pressed tightly together as he glared angrily at the smug bastard in front of him. The hero just laughed at his love’s hesitation and grabbed at Glanni’s hand anyway, tugging on it playfully.

“Come on,” Íþrótt insisted, hauling the fae to his feet and leading him back toward the stairs to the main floor of the house.

“Come on where?” his mate asked. “…Come on _where_ , Íþrótt?”

The pair emerged off the kitchen and, to Glanni’s worry, Íþrótt started to lead them toward their bedroom upstairs. Until today he thought he would _never_ feel such trepidation from his mate literally dragging him to their room. Nothing about this was right. He felt a little sick.

“Where does Sólarupprás keep their clippers?” the hero asked.

Glanni shook his head. “Íþrótt, I’m serious. You don’t need to do this.”

The man turned to face the nervous fae and grinned. He cupped Glanni’s cheek in his hand and lightly pressed their lips together. As nice as it felt, it did nothing to soothe Glanni’s concerns.

“I know I don’t _need_ to, Glanni. I want to. It won’t be bad, I promise. I’ll show you.”

“You’re just doing this to try and make me feel better. That’s a stupid reason to shave your stupidass head, Íþrótt.”

“What about doing it just because I want to?” the elf asked with a mischievous smirk and a wink. “Isn’t that a good enough reason when _you_ do something, whether I approve of it or not?”

Glanni frowned at that, glaring in lieu of coming up with a decent enough response to Íþrótt’s comments. He pulled the duvet around his shoulders more tightly, if only to accent his displeasure at the entire situation. The fae verbally protested with a grumble when the hero picked him up bridal style and brought him over to their currently blanket-less bed and set him down. Íþrótt nuzzled his mate fondly, peppering Glanni’s stiff and pouting jawline with kisses. After giving the lanky man’s nose a gentle poke, Íþróttaálfurinn left the room, leaving Glanni in a pink burrito of his own anxiety.

He sat there for a few silent minutes, stewing. He couldn’t believe Íþrótt was thinking about doing what he was thinking about doing. Glanni let out a minute whine and pulled the fluffy duvet up over his head like a hood again, covering up the problem that had caused this stupid mess in the first place. He couldn’t believe his hair was thinning. He’d always loved his hair. He sometimes coordinated entire outfits to match his locks. Oh, how he regretted his decision to grow it out again…long hair would only make his disgusting bald patch even _more_ noticeable. Especially in his best dresses. God, why did the world fucking despise him like it did?

“Found it!”

Íþróttaálfurinn came back into the room, this time triumphantly holding their child’s hair clippers over his head like a trophy. He wiggled the instrument and flashed Glanni a smile before disappearing into the master bathroom adjacent. Almost a full minute passed before Glanni would hear the soft buzzing behind the closed door.

The fae sighed and pulled his legs to his chest, the lower half of his security burrito deflating. Stupid elf. He yanked his makeshift hood back down over his eyes. It’s not like Íþrótt chopping off his hair was going to stop _Glanni_ from going bald somehow. _He_ wouldn’t have the option of growing his hair back like his stupid jackass of a sweetheart partner did.

But…it _was_ a kind gesture. Glanni had to give the big lunk that much, at least. It didn’t _solve_ the problem, per say, but… _damn_ if Glanni wasn’t touched by the thought. Okay, so maybe Glanni would still be ugly when his hair really started to fall out, but…at least his Íþrótt would still have him. That’s what really mattered, right? He could shrivel up into a cueball–headed old prune and the stupid elf would probably still love him. That…that was a nice thought.

The buzz of the clippers ceased. Glanni lowered his blanket hood. He couldn’t help but hold his breath as he listened to the barely audible sounds that were, undoubtedly, Íþrótt trying to add—subtract?—some finishing touches before cleaning up. The damage was done. Glanni was sure that the dumbass hero must be regretting his decision by now. He swallowed as the bathroom door opened.

Íþróttaálfurinn appeared, his bright and bubbly smile somehow still intact and his doofy hero cap firmly affixed to his head. Glanni couldn’t decide what facial expression best fit the situation and ended up just giving the man a blank stare. For lack of any better alternatives, he settled on crossing his arms over his chest, creating a twisted blob in the front of his comforter cloak.

“I told you,” Glanni said in a sour tone. “Bald sucks, doesn’t it?”

The hero jumped, tucking into a ball as he flipped over his mate’s head and landed—surprisingly softly—on the bed beside him. Íþrótt scooted closer and landed a kiss on Glanni’s cheek.

“You’re cheating with your stupid hat.”

“I thought you _liked_ dramatic reveals?” the athletic hero teased.

“Shut up,” Glanni scolded, reaching an arm out of his cozy cocoon and yanking the stupid cap off the other man’s head.

The fae stared, stunned into silence for a moment. Íþrótt waited patiently as Glanni processed things. After a few more seconds, the man’s face quickly warped from overwhelmed shock into a scrunched mess trying to hold in his amusement. Glanni snorted. He covered his mouth, but was unable to keep the building laughter inside. It exploded out in a roar of hilarity, sending Glanni falling back onto the bed as Íþrótt blinked in mild surprise at such a reaction.

“What’s so funny?” the elf asked with a soft chuckle of his own.

“Oh my God your tan!” Glanni wheezed. “Your—your—your _head_!”

Íþróttaálfurinn snickered as he laid down next to the fae and waited until his partner could breathe again. He had thought that Glanni would find some amusement in his scalp’s prominent tan line, but he had clearly underestimated the man’s reaction.

“It’s so _pale_!”

“Well, it hasn’t exactly seen the sun since I was a babe.”

“It looks so _stupid_!” Glanni hooted. He reached out a hand to touch the man’s now-bare head. “Give it here! Give it here!”

Íþrótt bowed his head, soon feeling the once-criminal’s palms pressing firmly against his mildly sensitive scalp. Glanni delicately ran his fingers over his mate’s head, causing the elf to giggle now and again at the ticklish touch. As he caressed Íþrótt’s head, Glanni could feel the man relax under his hands. A soft rumble reverberated through the hero’s chest.

“Baby likes that?” Glanni teased.

Íþrótt just hummed in contentment.

“God, your scalp looks like it belongs to an albino! You look so damn _stupid_ with that fucking tan line!”

“But what about _ugly_?” Íþrótt challenged softly from where he lay, eyes now happily closed.

Glanni made it a point not to dignify the comment with a proper response.

“It’s so _smooth_!” he said instead. “You can’t possibly get your head this smooth with just clippers. What did you do in there? Did you use your stupid elfie magic for this?” A pause. “Ha! Your scalp can blush, too! _Oh my God_ is that an elf thing?”

“Glanni!” Íþróttaálfurinn laughed as his mate continued to gently rub the top of his head.

“It _does_ , look at it!” the fae giggled with glee.

Glanni’s delight over the novelty that was his love’s shaved head went on for a few good minutes. It slowly devolved into the pair simply relaxing on their bed together, Íþrótt’s cheek resting comfortably upon Glanni’s chest. The fae still busied himself by gliding his fingers gently across the hero’s freshly exposed skin as the each enjoyed the other’s company.

“I still don’t believe you did that.”

“Hmm?” Íþróttaálfurinn hummed questioningly, not yet bothering to open his eyes.

Glanni tapped the top of the elf’s head. “This, dumbass.”

“To prove to you it’s not as horrible as you think it is,” Íþrótt said quietly. “You never answered my question, by the way. Do you think I’m ugly now?”

Glanni sighed. “Fine. You’re not _ugly_.”

Íþrótt smiled.

“But!” Glanni said loudly, interrupting the elf’s victory. “You _do_ look ridiculous after having a full head of hair ten minutes ago.”

“I do,” the hero agreed with a slight chuckle. “Do you love me any less?”

Glanni groaned. “ _No_.”

Íþrótt finally opened his eyes to look up at the other man. “Do you believe I’ll love _you_ any less?”

The fae sighed and tried to pull Íþrótt further into his lap, though the hero needed to help a bit by scooting further across the bed to help him.

“No,” Glanni conceded. “B-but I’m still not happy about it. You can’t make me get excited about all my beautiful hair falling out, Íþrótt!”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he replied softly as he reached his arms to hook around Glanni’s waist. “I just wanted to prove it’s not the end of the world.”

“Not all of it, but…some.”

“Hm?”

“I _like_ how I look. I _like_ my hair. I don’t…want it to go away. I don’t want to be uncomfortable in my own damn skin just because my head suddenly looks weird and I can’t do anything with it to change how it looks or how I can express myself…it’s like I’m losing  a finger or two and I’m supposed to just accept it and be all smiles. It’s fucking horse shit.”

Íþrótt nodded. “It can be scary to have things change,” he agreed. “But your hair doesn’t make you the man I love, and it doesn’t make you the city’s most nefarious criminal mind. It isn’t even what makes you so handsome— _all_ of you does that. Glanni’s _hair_ isn’t Glanni _himself_. And I love Glanni.”

The fae swallowed and fell silent. Glanni quietly rubbed the top of Íþrótt’s head. After a bit of thinking, he let himself smile. The hero was glad to see it, but was immediately suspicious of the abrupt change in expression.

“What are you thinking?” the hero questioned.

“I just realized I have a giant Íþrótt doll to play with, that’s all.”

The elf man raised a brow in curiosity.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Íþrótt! Oh, you are going to try on _so many_ wigs for me! Oh, we’re going to find the _perfect_ look for you! This is going to be _fun_!”

Íþróttaálfurinn couldn’t hold in his laughter at the sound of his mate’s excitement. The two snickered and giggled together, holding one another close and peppering the other’s face with affectionate kisses.

The pair spent the next few weeks modeling and analyzing various wigs and corresponding accessories. It was tedious at times, hilariously fun at others, and always seemed to lead to lovingly intimate moments between them. It was some time during what Glanni dubbed _Íþrótt’s Experimental Period_ that both men decided that there was nothing under the sun that could help the poor pull off the color green in any capacity. Both before and after Íþrótt’s head-tan began to even itself out from exposure. “Mustard stain it is, then,” Glanni had sighed after two days of trying to find something green that looked half-decent on the elf man.

It did not escape the hero’s notice during all of their silly fun that Glanni decided to keep a small number of Íþrótt’s try-it-for-fun wigs for what seemed to be a blossoming personal collection. “For emergencies” the fae had said when he caught Íþróttaálfurinn watching him brush one of them before tucking it safely away. He was just glad that Glanni seemed to be back to his beautiful, confident self again. Then again, Glanni would always be beautiful to him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically how I turn fanfiction into an attempt at self-therapy. I am literally both of these boys at once. At BEST I have a 50/50 chance of going bald Milford-style and I'm not happy about it :( 
> 
> It was giving me so much anxiety that I decided, fuck it, I would see what I had to work with while my hair will still grow back. So...I shaved my head. *I* don't think I looked very good, like, at all...but people apparently say I have the skull to pull the look off, so...yay? Neither Glanni or I are exactly happy with the situation, but I think we'll both be able to deal, I think. I just need to find me an Ithro for the occasional reassurance lol.


End file.
